


Let It Burn

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Biblical References, Developing Relationship, M/M, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 21:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5841346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, God created a love between an Angel and a Human, so pure and perfect it would save the world... if only they could find one another. He would intervene if necessary, but to love, to fall... it had to be their choice. It was never easy.  </p><p>This is their story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kindle

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: I love biblical references in pop culture. I love playing with them and building on them and referencing them with what knowledge I have from attending church as a child. This is what that is.
> 
> It's also a fleshing out of the Destiel storyline. Because it's always been a thread that needs more meat. 
> 
> Each chapter will be told in a different voice, by a different narrator, and end with God's summary. It follows canon as closely as possible, and thus the last chapters may well be affected by the events in Season 11. The story is a work in progress as of January 2016, but I do intend to finish it. Tags are correct for as far as I've written (including unposted chapters) and will be updated. 
> 
> With that, I hope you all enjoy.

Everything about the garden is annoying.

Michael flinches when a stray tree branch hits him in the face, turns his head to miss another, and tightens his shoulders at the narrowness of the paths winding through. “Joshua!” he calls out, tilting his head so that his voice will hopefully carry above shrubs and vines and ancient growth to reach the ever-present gardner.

And sure enough, a patient voice responds, “Here,” and Michael finds his target just around a rounded corner of flora.

“You summoned me.”

“Indeed I did.” Joshua straightens to his full height, his right hand still holding a pair of pruning shears as he folds both hands in front of himself and lifted his chin, honest eyes turned to Michael. “Your Father has a message for you.”

“He could just tell me himself. He knows this.”

“True, but perhaps you should consider that there’s a reason he chooses not to. He did, after all, lose one of his eldest children over a disagreement about the Humans. Perhaps he fears having to repeat this with you.” Michael’s eyes flicker with  _ how dare you _ , but he says nothing, just squares and tightens his jaw.

“I await my Father’s Word.”

Joshua’s face takes on the look of a very patient father himself - one frustrated by the attitude of a rebellious child, like he ought to know better by now, but can’t be taught to behave no matter the method. Then he turns back to his pruning, clipping carefully at a bush of blooming red roses. “You, and a few others, seem to need a reminder that we are supposed to be the good guys in this fight. That’s the first thing, Michael. Remember… we’re the force of good and light, and we cannot be that if we’re forcing the end of the world, so… step back.  _ Cool it _ . That’s a human expression your vessel uses, as I understand it, and you need him to like you, so…  _ cool it _ .”

Michael growls and set his mouth in a deep frown, hands clenched at the sides, but says nothing.

Joshua looks up and sighs. “‘ _ For God _ so loved the world _ that he gave his one and only Son _ ’,” he quotes in passionate exasperation. “ _ Love _ , Michael. God, above all, is an all-seeing, all-knowing, ever-present force of  _ love _ . And he loves you, and me, and every host of Heaven. So, please stop thrashing about like he’d endorse you to do anything else.”

“But this is His Plan! His Decree! That John and Mary Winchester bring forth two sons just as Adam and Eve before them - this has come to pass. That one of those sons fall from his grace just as it was Cain and Abel -  _ this _ has come to pass. That the sons assume their rightful roles in the battle between Hell and Heaven… this  _ must _ come to pass as well, gardner! It is The Plan, God’s Will, and to want or suggest otherwise is no less than blasphemy!”

“Bite. Your. Tongue.” Joshua’s voice is measured and low, and he turns away from the rose bush, shears gripped tightly in one fist like they almost might be a weapon. “Has it not occurred to you that there is more to The Plan than just your role in it? That you ought to consider the multitude of the heavenly host and perhaps your vessel as well? In this little play of ours, you are the lead. Yes. But you are not the entire show. There are others whose actions and feelings and destinies must. Be. Considered.”

“Lucifer? I will not.”

“Castiel.”

The name, the single word, three syllables, freezes Michael on the spot. His expression is unadulterated surprise at first, then confusion, then disgust. “The Angel of Thursday has fallen from grace. I’ll not have anything to do with him. If he dies, so much the better for all of us. He’s outlived his usefulness and by all rights should be returned to Heaven permanently and locked away for his transgressions. He is nothing but a distraction for Dean Winchester at this point.”

Joshua takes in the tirade with an unblinking, unreadable expression. He waits until he’s certain Michael has finished before turning back to his rosebush. With quiet, careful consideration, he selects a single flower and clips it right at the branch, allowing for a long, thorny stem, which he holds delicately between his left thumb and forefinger as he faces Michael again. When he speaks, he speaks to the flower. “These things… roses. God put them on Earth and in heaven as a metaphor, and the Humans… well, they got it a bit better than we did. A thing of such beauty, such grace… such softness. They see the flower as a symbol of love, and they’re right. But they handle it with care. They… hold them gingerly, to avoid breaking the stems or damaging the delicate petals. But also to avoid hurting themselves. They understand that some things, like love, and like this rose, give and take in turn. You treat them with respect, and they bloom with beauty. But if you’re too quick, too harsh… they will smite you. But us angels… we look at this rose and what do we see? If God asked you to pick this rose, you’d do it. No hesitation. No question. As quickly and efficiently as possible, even if the rose was damaged in its retrieval.”

“Get to your point, old man.”

“Consider Castiel’s role in the salvation of Dean Winchester. Consider… of all who tried and failed… Why was he the one to succeed in retrieving both Dean’s body and his soul from Perdition?” There’s no response, and Joshua sighs, wondering not for the first time if he’s completely wasting his time. It doesn’t matter whether he gets through to Michael or not; God’s not coming back. “Castiel held Dean like a rose. Beauty, with razor-sharp claws. He got Dean out of Hell because he cherished him through it - gripped tight, but fully aware he was in possession of something that could hurt him right back if not handled properly. And after he plunked that boy back on Earth, he kept at it. He tended. He fussed. And yes, Michael, he  _ loved _ . So. Dean is strong, and he is fierce, and he’s built to survive. But he’s not unlike this rose, and you’re on the verge of trampling the true beauty of him. That would be… unwise.”

“Beautifully stated, and I’ll surely yield this advice once I’ve assumed Dean. But I don’t see what any of this has to do with Castiel.”

“Ah. That’s the second thing God wanted to tell you.” Joshua chuckles and twirls the rose between his fingers, admiring its color as it spins. Then he stops it in an instant and jerks his head up, eyes burning into Michael’s. “What I said first, about love. This is beyond the brotherhood of the Winchesters; this is beyond love in Heaven, beyond the love between two Humans on Earth. Castiel and Dean are bound. Soul bound, across the celestial and earthly planes. Deeper than John Winchester and Mary Campbell and more necessary than Adam and Eve, it’s so. Desperately. Important, Michael - apocalypse or not, their bond must. Not. Be. Broken. No matter what else happens, their love  _ must be allowed _ to flourish and grow, and if you interfere, you will be in direct violation of your Father’s wishes and he will. Reign. Fire upon you.” It’s Joshua’s trump card. God won’t interfere for harm to Dean Winchester, but He  _ will _ appear in half a heartbeat to protect this bond. “You treat Dean Winchester with care, and you don’t harm a hair on your brother’s head.”

Michael growls again. “That’s a direct order, then.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“Next time, skip the story time and just get to the point.” Michael turns without another word and stomps out of the garden.

Joshua stands still to watch him go. When he’s alone, he looks down at the flower in his hands; considers its pigmentation, its shape. He lifts it to his nose for a breath.

Then, intentionally, he pricks his thumb on a single thorn. 

Angels don’t bleed in heaven. Perhaps that’s why they’ve never understood love, he muses, the way the Humans do.

Before Castiel.

But Castiel is different.

Always has been.

_ Don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish _ . He remembers observing when Michael imparted those words to the freshly made angel, barely three Earth-days in Heaven, and  _ Michael _ had been the one to teach Castiel about the place of tenderness in God’s plan. Now it seems the archangel needs a refresher course.

***

Michael huffs and paces; paces and huffs. He clenches his fists open and closed repeatedly, but it does no good to release the anger that’s built up inside him. Finally he sends a silent word to Zachariah.  _ Plan B _ , he imparts. 

Zachariah’s in his office in a beat. “The boy’s been dead a year. Plan B isn’t really a  _ plan _ anymore.”

Michael grips the edge of his desk and leans large over it. “Last time I checked, we were still angels. We’re more than capable of raising the dead.”

“It’s possible, yes, but-- the sheer power required for such an act… the risks-- it’ll be far easier to break Dean Winchester.”

Michael pounds a closed fist against his desk. “Plan. B,” he growls. “And lay off Dean.”

“But--”

“You heard me. Get out of my sight.” There’s a flutter of wings, and when Michael lifts his head, he’s alone again. 

***

_ And so, you see, I had to put him back together again.  _

_ And again. _

_ And again. _

_ I really thought they’d get the hint the first time; with Sam gone, Dean would need someone - and Castiel, too. They would be each others’ someones. They would be my perfect creation, together, on Earth. _

_ But I can’t control them - free will, and all that. So instead of Castiel, Dean went to Lisa; and instead of Dean, Castiel went to hell and got Sam. So clueless, the both of them, just how important they are - just what rewards await them if they would just stop to really consider one another. I gave them the kindling to build a beautiful fire that will burn for eternity. I stepped in on their behalf - not Dean’s behalf, not Castiel’s behalf, but  _ theirs _ , together, and what they are destined to build upon the Earth…  _

_ But they continue to scurry about like a couple of rats in a maze, looking for the hardest possible escape route when really, the way out has been right in front of them the entire time. _


	2. Smoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel's heart hurts, and Lucifer doesn't sugarcoat his insights on that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers a long span of time in order to address two connected plot points: Castiel's retrieval of Sam's body from Hell (addressed in Season 6) and his subsequent decision to assume Sam's mental instability (late Season 7.) 
> 
> Warning for discussion about what is and is not considered sinful.   
> Possible trigger warning for Lucifer suggesting that Cas may have non-con fantasies involving Dean (please keep in mind this is coming from Lucifer and thus should be taken with a huge grain of salt.) 
> 
> Voices in this chapter: Castiel, Lucifer, God.

Castiel’s heart hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s how it is. He’s watching Dean - has been watching him for days - rake the leaves, cut the grass, wash dishes, even parent a child.  _ Domesticity _ , that’s what this is called - something humans aspire to, something he knows Dean has always secretly wanted but never thought that he would have. It’s remarkably peaceful to observe, and Cas can’t deny a little bit of pride at helping Dean reach this level of normalcy, to leave behind a life of nightmares and certain death.

But it makes Cas’s  _ heart hurt _ . Not because he wants what Dean has, but because in the pit of his stomach there’s a gnawing  _ need _ … to have  _ Dean _ . 

Something overwhelms that need, though - something bigger and stronger that keeps Castiel from stepping in. More than he needs Dean, he needs Dean to be  _ happy. _ In fact, he feels solely responsible for making and keeping Dean happy, even at the expense of his own… desires.

He sighs as Dean sets down his rake and trots up wooden stairs into the house.

Dean doesn’t need Castiel in order to find happiness; really, he’s probably glad the angel is gone; his life is simpler now, peaceful, and Castiel will not ruin that for him. He owes Dean that much.

In fact, he thinks, he may be able to make it even better.

***

Truth be told, Lucifer doesn’t put up much of a fight when Castiel comes for Sam. The angel is distracted - and  _ annoying _ , Lucifer thinks. So rather than waste the energy, he lets the body go, and only holds on to the soul because well-- he’s never been one to completely surrender. And this isn’t that either, really; just a strategic retreat. He’ll mount an underground rebellion with Sam as the battlefield; it’ll be fine.  _ No _ , he thinks, smiling slyly,  _ it’ll be FUN _ . 

What Lucifer can’t quite figure is  _ why _ Castiel wants Sam back so badly. He’s so damaged at this point, with or without his soul, that he’s of little use to anyone. Heaven certainly doesn’t want him - never has, and won’t like this either. But the angel has a look in his eyes… like…

It dings in his brain after Hell-years of wondering. “You did it for Dean,” he breathes into Castiel’s brain, because this is a _ really comfy _ space to be, fresh thoughts to twist and toy with, plus it kind of smells like… sour angel, or something. It’s amazing and he resolves quickly to never leave. 

He laughs at Castiel, who’s petrified of his presence - it’s a nice change of pace from Sam, who’d gotten boring but really, by then he’d been committed, and… well. It’s nice to be able to stretch his legs again. “You sly dog, you. You love him and you went to hell and back for him and then his little brother and you want. To have. His babies,” he sings the last six words, humming a happy little tune. Castiel is still looking at him with the eyes of a child who’s just witnessed his first beheading. “That face will get you nowhere, brother. Not with me, not with Dean, not with that beautiful new nurse. Oh. But you don’t swing that way, hmm hmmmmmm mmmm. Dean Winchester is a hot little piece of ass, you’ve got that much right. I mean, Sam’s more my speed, but nevertheless - great taste, Castiel.” He leans into Castiel’s personal space so close their noses touch, then mirrors the wide-eyed expression. “Too bad he’ll never love you.”

Lucifer revels in the way Castiel squirms under his proximity; he draws strength from the way his little brother can’t even stand down his stare without a whimper. Finally Castiel manages, “Dean is as free as any human to do as he wishes. He has no responsibility toward me, romantic or otherwise.”

Lucifer lets the laughter bubble up all the way from his gut. “Lying is a sin, Castiel. Casssss…” he hisses it out, “Some would say your desires are as well.”

“You know as well as I do that homosexuality is not a sin. That idea is a concept entirely of human creation. God is utterly indifferent--”

“But sodomy  _ is _ .” Lucifer simply cannot abide by the gravelly, defensive tone his brother has suddenly assumed, as though he somehow  _ knows better _ . Best to squelch that down before Castiel rebels, like Sam had. No need to go through that bore and discomfort again. “ _ Lust _ is. You forget, Castiel, but I’m inside your head. I can see  _ every single _ little nugget of fantasy you’ve had about Dean Winchester. I can see your memories. I know that you masturbated--”

“That’s enough--”

“--For the first time - that  _ your first human orgasm _ was to the mental image of sodomizing Dean Winchester,  _ brother _ . I know that you watched him raking leaves and considered what it would be like to touch and feel those muscles flex  _ whether you had Dean’s consent or not _ . Shame, shame, Castiel,” he tisked, wagging a finger, positively giddy at the way he has Castiel curling in on himself. “And that was before you betrayed them. Those Winchesters. Forget who they  _ are _ ; what you  _ did _ ? Oh Cas. Lest we forget what the Word says about  _ that _ .” He towers over Castiel’s broken form as he goes in for the death blow. “Time for you to face the truth. You’re no better than me.”

Before Castiel can respond - if he had any intention of doing so, Lucifer will never be sure - there’s a blinding-bright flash and a tone pitched so high it breaks all the lights in the nondescript room. Lucifer cracks just one second behind Castiel - enough time for the long-fallen angel to see his little brother screw his eyes shut and cover his ears - before he has to mirror the actions. And then it’s dark and quiet…

And he’s alone, back in his cage.

_ Genie put back in the bottle _ , he thinks.  _ Father, I yield. But you’ve not won, and I will not stand down. Your angel is broken.  _

And then he leans hard against the bars, and waits.

***

_ I almost came back for this; almost made my presence known to both of my sons in that hospital room. _

_ Destiny was supposed to lead Dean and Castiel to each other. Destiny has a way of going off track when the Winchesters get their hooks in it, I know this; I count on it, in fact. This time, though, it’s entirely on the shoulders of my own fallen children. _

_ Lucifer… I love you. But you’ve forced me to choose. And I hope you’re watching, son. I hope you’re watching from your cell as Dean comes for Castiel. I hope you’re watching their interactions, their mannerisms, and the way that Castiel heals just a bit at Dean’s presence. Unlike you, Castiel fully acknowledges the depth and breadth of his transgressions. Unlike you, he feels the weight of their burden and the need to do penance. Unlike you, he will spend the rest of eternity with regrets. _

_ You could learn a thing or two from your little brother, Lucifer. _

_ But you’ve stopped listening, I know. _

_ I will leave you lord over your hell fire; it suits you, impatient, restless, destructive… But I hope that you watch as I tend this slow smoulder your little brother is building. I hope that you notice I care more about his fledgling fire and getting it to burn brightly, than I do about stomping out yours. _

_ It’s a small, perhaps fruitless hope. But it is still there. _


	3. Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tiniest light of hope in Purgatory. Benny's POV.

Benny isn’t stupid. You don’t survive in Purgatory as long as he has by being stupid. He’s got his eyes open even when they’re closed, and he’s intuitive besides.

He suspects all through the search, the way Dean is relentless and ruthless in his interrogations, in his determination that he will not leave this unholy place without Castiel, that there is something between them. And he knows the minute they find the trenchcoated bastard that Dean and the angel are fucking.

Doesn’t bother him, of course, though he does wonder about Castiel’s loyalties - for all of the puppy-dog eyes those two are throwing at each other beside the creek, Castiel seems determined to get rid of Dean, and the sooner the better.

But Dean shrugs off his lover’s attempts to separate the two of them, insistent that even here, they’re stronger together than apart. Benny’s pretty sure that’s not true. Not when he watches them at night, in the cold and the dark when he’s got watch, and they’re curled into each other for comfort and closeness as much as for warmth.

One night, after about a week of walking vaguely in the direction Benny’s pretty sure the portal is in, he waits until the angel is snoring softly before walking up to Dean and gingerly nudging him in the back with his boot until the human rouses and looks up at him warily. “The hell you wakin’ me for?” His rough tone is made deeper still by the attempt to keep his voice down for the angel’s sake.

Benny offers a disarming smile and half-shrug in response. “Never would’ve figured you as the big spoon,” he teases, and if possible, Dean’s expression grows even more annoyed.

“Shut up.” He rolls back over, and Benny knows if he’s going to have this conversation, he needs to fly right and drop the teasing, so he clears his throat.

“I ain’t never been big on feelings, and certainly not since I been here, but uh. I think you and me need to have a little chat about your angel.”

Dean sits up at that, brow still creased with confusion, but Benny notes the annoyance has faded. Another beat and Dean is more awake, on his feet and assuming a clearly defensive posture at the mention of Castiel. “What about him?”

“Relax, boy, I don’t mean him any harm, and if we can get all three of us out of here, we’re damn well gonna do it, I swear.” He’s got his hands up, palms out, and hopes even as a vamp he’s still able to show emotion through his eyes - and it must work, because Dean relaxes his shoulders, if only just. “Just wanna hear it from you where you two stand is all.”

“Where we stand? We don’t, Benny. We don’t  _ stand _ anywhere except that we’re friends, maybe family, and he went through hell for me -  _ literally _ \- so the least I can do is pull him out of here.”

So, he’s a liar, but that’s not a huge surprise for a human. Except… 

Benny tilts his head and narrows his eyes, taking another look at Dean’s face. He’s seen the human lie in the time they’ve been together, and this ain’t his lying face. He’s earnest, if not a bit confused by Benny’s question.

There’s something else there, too, though. Something Benny remembers feeling back when he was a human himself; something he hasn’t felt since he went cold.

“Nothin’ you’ve seen fit to act on.”

Dean’s growl is the only response Benny needs, really.

“All right, then. That’s fine, Dean, long as you remember. We made a deal.”

“We’re  _ all _ getting out of here. That’s the deal.”

Dean stalks away then, back to the sleeping angel, back to the position they’d been in before Benny’s interruption, and Benny chooses to let him go rather than call him out on his diplomatic reply. But he considers in that moment that the way Dean avoided both confirmation and denial, if they do indeed make it out, Dean Winchester ought to run for president.

He sighs and settles back against a tree trunk, sinking down to a sitting position, wrapping himself in the rare silence that surrounds their camp.

The silence breaks a short time later - not with the rustle of a coming attack, but with a quiet murmur of voices to his right, and he focuses on the pair he’d assumed to be asleep. He can’t hear what they’re saying, only that they’re both awake and having an exchange, because he can distinguish the angel’s gravelly tone from Dean’s smoother one. And then they’re facing each other - there’s a quiet scuffle as Castiel rolls over - and then they’re pressed together - bodies, mouths, roaming hands, and his mouth twitches in a brief smirk when he sees the angel’s hand squeeze at the cleft of Dean’s ass to pull him even closer, if that’s possible - and Dean’s subsequent groan, and then a “shhh” and a low chuckle.

He looks away then, giving the surrounding area a slow visual scan, but a slow smile spreads across his face.  _ Well _ , he thinks,  _ you’re welcome, Dean. I’m glad to have done my part _ .

***

_ Sure, I helped them along a lot. _

_ But I didn’t plan on Benny, and I didn’t pull them from Purgatory. _

_ The spark? The spark belongs to them. _

_ I’m proud of them for that. _


End file.
